


And That Was Love

by TravelingSong



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, a missing scene between Red and Liz, alternative ending to 4x15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9912047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TravelingSong/pseuds/TravelingSong
Summary: "It's not something she is unfamiliar with, seeing him injured and hurt, but it doesn't get easier. It never pains her any less than the first time. The look of helplessness he can't fully conceal, not with her, because she knows him too well. Knows he's scared and insecure. Knows it had probably been her he had thought about during those final moments."





	

**Author's Note:**

> An alternative ending to 4x15. Comments and thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

He's never been in this room before. The paintings on the wall, the lamp on the nightstand, the bed. He doesn't recognize a single thing. No, he's never been in this room before.

And yet...

There's a familiarity to it that he can sense through the tingle in his fingertips, something in the air that makes him feel almost safe.

He doesn't remember many details. A meeting, a drink, a medical facility. Breaking in a car window. His hat abandoned on the floor in a stranger's apartment. Every incident a separate image, everything out of order. Maybe it had started with the drink, maybe it had started in a hospital bed. Maybe he had imagined half of it. He can't be sure. But his body is tired, drained, and his skin looks strangely pale. He could still be dying. And he's thinking of her.

 _I hope you'll see Elizabeth again_.

He doesn't flinch when the door opens.

He knows just who to expect.

* * *

"Don't ever do that again."

It's not the greeting he had expected but she remains rather unpredictable these days. The good surprises, the bad, and whatever they had to face in between. And he just wants to look at her. He always does.

"Lizzie," is all he manages, his voice raspy from lack of use. The only name he won't ever grow tired of saying.

She smiles at him then, her serious demeanor quickly fading, and she grabs a chair and places it next to the bed. He feels slightly self-conscious, his vest and button-up gone, his armor dismantled. He's not used to sitting across from her in a plain t-shirt, even during similar situations he had always had a hoodie to shield him from the world around him, but this seems almost intimate now, the blanket not long enough to cover his body.

"Are you cold?" she asks him.

He nods, unsure if she sensed his discomfort or if the temperature in the room really was a bit too low, but he decides it doesn't matter.

"You know, I practically insisted on having a guest room in this apartment just in case people wanted to stay over and spend the night," she tells him as she grabs more sheets from the closet in the corner, "but I certainly didn't expect it to act as a makeshift clinic."

"How did I get here?"

"I asked them to transfer you. I didn't want you to wake up in a sterile hospital room. I didn't want you to be alone."

He can't think quite clearly yet but he's convinced he'll remember her response as long as he'll live.

"Thank you," he says as she puts a stack of blankets by his waist and reclaims her spot next to him. And then she smiles at him. Just smiles. Like she's so glad he's here. And he's sure he's still dreaming.

"How are you feeling?" she inquires softly, helps him to find a more comfortable position.

Well. It's complicated, really.

It's not the physical symptoms he is focused on. He assumes the antidote will find its way through his system, follow its orders, keep the poison from spreading, from killing him. He'll survive this, too.

It's her hand so close to his. It's the fact that she has brought him into her home to let him heal, to let him rest. It's her name on the tip of his tongue over and over and over, _Elizabeth_ , and the certainty of death, _you kept saying her name_ , and her image appearing like a remedy when he had closed his eyes.

_Someone who'd miss you if you died?_

_Maybe._

He had hoped. He had wished for it. That maybe somewhere beyond the chaos, the good memories would prevail. Not a monster. A friend maybe. A partner. Not the blood on his hands but the warmth of his embrace.

If he stretched his fingers just the tiniest bit, he could touch her.

"I've been better," he says, remains perfectly still. "I've been much worse, too."

She sighs. Moves her thumb towards his absentmindedly.

It's not something she is unfamiliar with, seeing him injured and hurt, but it doesn't get easier. It never pains her any less than the first time. The look of helplessness he can't fully conceal, not with her, because she knows him too well. Knows he's scared and insecure. Knows it had probably been her he thought about during those final moments.

He needs to be more careful. He can't just leave her like this.

"I meant what I said earlier. Don't ever do that again."

"Getting poisoned?"

"Scaring me like that."

He thinks he might forget how to breathe any second now.

"I can't make any promises," he begins, "but I'll do my very best."

"Thank you." Her gaze travels over his face for an instant, her emotions briefly coming to the surface. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Keep me company for a bit." More time with her. It's the only thing he wants.

He can see the tears sting in her eyes. Her defenses breaking.

"I can do that," she responds and takes his hand in hers. "Get some rest, Red," she whispers as she absorbs the heat of his skin. "I won't let anything happen to you."

* * *

He doesn't need to dream about it anymore.

About comfort, someone who cares for him, someone to come home to. What her lips would feel like against his. What she looked like when she woke up next to him in the morning. Her heartbeat next to his. Sleeping soundly.

It took a tragedy for them to realize it. It took a recovery for them to finally act on it.

He's not sure yet if it'll last, this happiness. Few things in his life ever do.

But he finally knows he's not alone. Won't be again.

And that's something, too. That's everything.

_You kept saying her name._

The one to save him. The woman he loves.

_Someone who'd miss you if you died?_

Maybe.

Surely.

Yes.


End file.
